


Dreams In Shadow Lives

by Laurense_Arkenau



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dimensional Refugee, Dubious Science, Hatred, Hero-Villain Romance, Isolation, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Plot Twists, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurense_Arkenau/pseuds/Laurense_Arkenau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking in another world is made difficult by new customs and the loss of everything he's ever known and loved. Shane has learned to accept his situation and adapted to this new place of wonders. With anachronisms of technology, people with special abilities, and the hectic lifestyle of living in a big city, his biggest problem is being noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is © 2015 Laurense Arkenau.

Sparks rained from above, scorching the very air where it passed.

Gasping for breath, Shane's entire body clenched. The entire world stunk of matches and burnt wood. He wanted to cry out for his parents, but everything hurt too much. His lungs burned, wheezing with each attempt to draw air. His heart pounded in his chest. Without the ability to breathe, his arms and legs soon became too heavy to move.

What was happening?

Blinded by tears, all he could see were bright lights where only the darkness of his room had been. His stomach clenched and tried to rebel. but nothing came up. The heat of nearby fires stung at his skin until it became raw. His back quickly felt sunburned and tender.

Shane laid on his side, trying to curl into a ball, wanting to get away from it all. Everything hurt so much. Even the tips of his fingers and toes were hot and tingly. They felt cracked and swollen.

He was too hot. Coughing, he managed to draw enough breath to groan. It was the wrong thing to do, because the heat went down his throat on the next breath. It scalded inside and dried out his mouth. Nose dry, the stink of everything went away.

His body grew heavier as the world grew brighter and started to slowly spin. Dizzy, Shane closed his eyes against the nauseating force. Yet, he could still see the dazzling display. Groaning, he could only hold on to his knees and prayed it would just be over.

Then, suddenly, it was. Everything was quiet and gone.

A gentle breeze tugged at his skin, cool and damp. The hair on his arms tensed, standing on end at the abrupt change. Shane lay there for several moment as his heart slowly calmed. Hearing himself draw breath, he realized only then that there was no pain. The heat, the ache, the scalded flesh, it was all gone. He was whole and alive.

Slowly, at first, he blinked open one eye, then both. His vision swam through the tears, but they weren't from the heat or pain. Skin prickled in goose bumps, he shivered in the night air. He looked around, trying to see what had happened. 

Shane realized he was laying on the ground, surrounded by grass. With the knowledge came the cool sensation of damp earth beneath his arm and side. Mud teased at his bare hip and thigh where he lay on the edge of a puddle. It had rained recently. He was distantly aware that he was naked in a field, but it didn't register for what he saw.

Lights in the distance, they almost seemed to make the city glow. Massive spires rose high into the night sky atop many skyscrapers, shimmery and golden under the heavy clouds. A building covered in black glass stood at the heart of the city, taller than any other. Obsidian, he had learned about the volcanic glass last week. Great white lights shown down upon it from...a blimp that hovered overhead.

Unlike anything he had ever seen in his world, Shane knew it couldn't be real.


	2. Chapter 1: A Figure Alone.

**'Fifteen years.'**

People passed by outside the window every day. Rarely did they look through, never did they actually see within. It was a delicate balance that natives of the city played everyday of their lives. Whether it was learned or inherent to their natures, he wasn't really sure.

Today, like every morning, Shane sat in his corner booth. He would sit there watching the world go by. The people outside the window to his right, the people in the cafe on his left, everyone was always on the move. Even the waitress on her rounds, would pass him by, unnoticed. It was all clockwork routine that rarely changed.

Take today, for instance. Hair pulled back in a loose bun, the waitress carried a hot pot of coffee, drifting from one table to the next. None of those stops would be here at his table. It was just something she did. She wans't alone in that.

Mug in hand, Shane studied the cooling black surface of its contents. He never drank the stuff; couldn't stand the taste of the burnt grinds, to be honest. It brought back too many bad memories. But it was hot and warmed him on these damp mornings. They were becoming more frequent. He liked the weight and feel of the mug in his hands; it was familiar, comforting. 

He supposed he was getting sentimental in his old age.

He was twenty-eight last week, not that anyone noticed. It was one of those hazards of being another nameless face in a crowd of millions, he supposed.

Cradling his lukewarm mug, he went back to watching the waitress. Her hair glinted golden under the incandescent lights, but it came from a bottle. The brunette eyebrows gave away her secret. She was a Sassy Sunrise, if he was correct. Darker than Golden Rod, with a touch of Aurora Hue. 

He wasn't just being spiteful. It was an educated guess. 

When he was sixteen, he'd spent about six weeks restocking salon shelves. It hadn't paid much, just enough for an industrial sized box of brushes. Those puppies had lasted him near seven years. In fact, he might still have one or two some where. It was hard to keep track, he had so many.

Box treatments weren't too bad, if you got the right kind. They lasted half as long as salon treatments, though. Another downside was that they lacked real varieties with natural highlights. Most people who paid to have it done liked a more subtle effect to their colors. Those stuck with doing their own hair tended to be a bit garrish.

Lucky for him, he was a natural brunette. He was a lovely shade of chestnut that complimented his bright blue eyes. At least, his pubes were. Upstairs, he was Spring Morning this month. A lighter shade than the waitress, it glowed with mild golds and shades of warm honey. At least, that's what he read off the bottle while applying it to his eyebrows. Checking his reflection in the napkin holder, Shane tilted his head from side to side and sighed. 

It was time to get another box.

Outside, lightning flashed above, but people paid it no mind. It was the hazard of living in a city where eighty-five percent of the time was overcast. Still, he checked his watch. He had fifteen minutes more before he really, really had to leave. With the rain and lightning, the sidewalks should be thinned enough by then where he wouldn't get run over.

At least, no more than twice. Maybe three times.

~~~

He had been wrong. Limping, he shook the edges of his jacket. The rain soaked material was almost black, instead of the usual gray. He had an arrant trucker to thank for that. Well, him about twenty other people. That was one driver who was going to feel the pinch, and maybe a few punches too.

Ducking through the outer door of a quiet shop, Shane shook it out once more just in case. He didn't want to be dripping while walking the aisles. Unlike some people, he was actually considerate of others health and well being! At least his messenger bag was waterproof and double sealed. Reasonably certain he wouldn't drip too much, he reached for a hand basket and continued on in.

The inner door swung open with a gentle whoosh, an automatic sensor detecting his arrival. It was made of an old, stained oak wood with a dozen panes of glass, not unlike a fancy house door. It was only one of many homey touches in this corner grocery. That was part of the reason Shane liked this place so much.

Stepping through the inner door, a wave of soft warm air wafted over him. He shivered in comfort and glanced over at the three checkout lanes.

Shana was working the first lane closest to the door. White hair pulled back in a braided leather strap, she glanced up from a copy of the Inquisitive. Upon looking, she snorted with a head jerk. That was pretty much the typical reaction to his entrance. Sighing, she went back to her gossip sheet.

Sighing himself, Shane shook his head and glanced to his left to see if someone was manning the service desk. It was empty, as usual. He'd have to go through the registers, then. Disappointed, his shoes clicked on the yellow tiles louder than usual. There weren't many people in at this time of morning, and he could hear the freezers in the back kick on.

He didn't need much today and would have waited until Wednesday's sell normally. Yet, if he wanted to make a creamed spinach ravioli tonight, there were a few ingredients he had to have. One of those was fresh noodles. The floor switched from tile to old wooden slats as he headed towards the bakery section. 

He was certain this market had been here for nearly a century. A lot of the original details were still here. A brass footpole still lined the deli counter. The glass of the display case looked newer, but the polished steel frame was of a design older than his parents would have been. Above, the light fixtures were art-deco lamps with incandescent bulbs. Just one was probably worth more than the entire store's inventory.

In his jacket, the pocket watched chimed four times. Shane sighed at the realization he was wasting time. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his billfold and the grocery list within. Time to get started.

~~~

The rain had stopped by the time he exited the shop and the sun was peeking out through the clouds. Subsequently, there were more people on the sidewalk. The early morning air was already filling with the heavy moisture of a typical fall day. Cool and wet to the touch, it would cling to the most frail of things. His hair and the edges of his clothes were always soaked by the time he made it to the shop.

Today was looking to be no different. Already, the collar of his shirt felt heavy, and not from sweat. The chill in the morning air assured that.

Sunbeans shown down upon the street, traveling with the clouds. They lit the grey world in a warm, white caress that seemed to shine beauty upon whatever they touched. Life was restored to those caught in the beam for that fleeting moment.

Shane was tracking one of those beams when he saw that light disappear. A lightness in his chest he had been unaware of sank then. Glancing up, he pushed at his fedora to find the reason.

Bathing in the rare sunbeam, a figure hovered parallel to the clouds. The red cape hung listless in the still air beneath the man where he floated above them. Arms folded behind his head, from below, the man looked for all the world to be taking a relaxing nap in the sun.

With a roll of his eyes, Shane snorted his disgust. "Show off." Of course the floating asshat in the striped pajamas would be rude enough to hog the sunlight for himself.

Around him, he realized, people had started to take notice. A few at first, just a quick glance above before moving on. This was soon followed by the casual murmur of parents to kids, then their excited shouts. Soon, the entire sidewalk was caught up in the excitement of seeing one of the city's golden boys and girls.

Used to the arrogant sight, he wasn't even remotely interested. Gently pushing his way through the crowd, Shane knew people were too busy to care or even notice that he was around. Unlike most of them, he had a schedule to keep. Stepping closer to the street, he was able to find a route cleared of most gawkers. Cars passed by fast enough that the wind buffeted his hat and coat. One false step or someone turning around too fast, and he'd find out their speed personally. 

Here, he was in a position to see a little girl in braids as she slipped from her mother's lax grip a few feet ahead of him.

She couldn't have been more than three, the same number of braids in her hair. Eyes in the sky, she stepped out from the crowd and backed towards the street. 

Shane watched her mother for a reaction as the world seemed to slow down for a moment, his heart light in his chest. His exhale was abnormally loud in the still air. He waited two two heart beats that felt an eternity in coming before he realized.

The woman hadn't noticed!

Taking another step, the little girl wasn't paying attention to what she was doing. Her sole focus was on getting clear and seeing above the crowd. One more and she'd been in the street.

Noting the passing cars and his distance, Shane made a quick decision. He shot out along the road, knocking people further into the crowded sidewalk. There was no point in shouting or calling for excuses, they wouldn't hear and wouldn't be able to act in time. Four long strides and reached her.

There wasn't time to be gentle. He quickly bent forward, and with a swipe of his hand, shoved her back toward her mother's general direction.

The little girl screeched in startled fear as she went flying across the short foot of space. Her cry became a scream half a beat later when she came crashing down on the sidewalk at her mother's feet.

Unable to slow down due to his momentum, Shane continued his sprint at an awkward angle. His arms flailed for several more steps while he desperately tried to right himself. He smacked up against several people with no way to stop. There was nothing solid to hold onto or to brace against his potential fall. If he went down now, it would be in the street to a painful death! He needed room to slow down, but there was no where to go; the ledge had disappeared.

People had heard the little girl's scream, and the crowd on the sidewalk was churning up into a mob. Shifting from person to person, they jostled in an attempt to see what had caused her cries and spread over the entire sidewalk. This agitation swallowed up the small buffer zone between the people and the street.

With no where else to go, Shane slammed into the crowd. Fear clenched in his chest and he saw them through wide eyes. Several people bounced off him, repelled into further people. The force of the impact stopped his forward momentum and he was thrown backwards onto his ass. He barely had time to put his hands down before landing, hard, on the sidewalk. Heart pounding, he watched the morning crowd devolve into chaos.

People screamed and spun about in place. Finding no where to go, they fought one another, shoving several people into the walls of the building beside them. Miraculously, no one was pushed into the street.

Several times, his fingers were nearly trambled as they rushed to get away. Shane pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them in attempt to make himself smaller. His breathing grew ragged. Face buried in his knees, he waited them out, praying he wasn't stomped or kicked.

Then, suddenly, it was over. The cries, the shouts of fear and pain, it was all quiet again. Only the noise of traffic passing, the gentle pur of car engines in road filled the calm morning air.

Shane trembled. The fear of the stampede still held him frozen.

He sat there for several moments, his heart in his throat. Slowly, ever so slowly, he managed to ease the pain in his chest, his knotted stomach. Drawing a shuddering breath, he swallowed down his fear enough to look raise his head and look.

The dim gray morning still shown. Cars still passed untouched by the insanity of moments before. There were people about, but they walked calmly to their destinations. Their faces showed not a trace of the panic and anger.

Curious, he looked back.

Where had been the little girl and her mother among the crowd, he found only an empty sidewalk. The busy walkway of minutes ago no longer existed. It was as if it had never happened.

Swallowing past his thick tongue, Shane closed his eyes and took a calming breath. Understanding dawned upon him. There was only one way to explain this. He dropped his head back with a smile. "Lourdes."

~~~

If there was one thing that hadn't changed between worlds, it was the lines. Wherever anyone went that was popular, there were already a hundred like-minded people coverging on the same spot. The weather here was no detraction. Even on a cool October morning, there were still plenty of people waiting for the Seven Tram downtown.

At least the lines of people were well formed and orderly. There were no pushing jerks vying for a better position. No woman dared enter with a six-foot pram to swan about the station like they owned the place. People who were sick waited at the back of the station, discreetly wiping themselves with disposable cloths and coughing into them before disposal.

Shane glanced at them with an appraising eye. There were only three today. That was two more than usual. Medical regulations tended to favor the ill and kept them from exposing the general public with generous sick days. Misusing your Health Time was a legal offense, however. Still, people had to do normal, everyday things even when under the weather.

A minder stood nearby just in case anyone needed help. She had a face mask and gloves on for her own protection. Until uniform regulation had passed five years ago, the minders had the highest mortality rate in the country. That had been a volatile time to ride the tram. It was amazing how many people had fought not to have to wear safety gear for their sake.

While public transportation was readily available across the city, there were still people who chose to drive their own cars. It was a form of personal luxury if you lived in the city. Hydrogen was plentiful, yes, but the maintenance cost an arm and a leg. 

The real price was in the fuel cells. They were heavy duty due to the explosive nature of their contents. He'd picked up a cell once and it nearly broke his arm off. A good car only needed a new cell one a month. But the price of a refill was almost the same for a used car.

He could still recall the near riots of when gas reached a dollar fifty back home. A little kid, all the shouting had scared him. His mom had cried for nearly two days with worry. Shane hadn't understood back then. All he clearly recalled was the helplessness he felt when he hadn't been able to make her stop.

Price gouging wasn't unique to either world, it seemed.

While he reached into his pocket for his watch, he heard the quiet drone of propellers overhead. Glancing up, he marveled at the low flying derigible. It's landing lights blinked and flashed to indicate it was almost upon final descent. If he had time, he wouldn't mind the extra expense of taking the air taxi. Unlike most people, he didn't actually mind the tourists that crammed into the window seats.

A gentle vibration started in the platform as the hairs on the back of his hand stood up. The tiny thrill of eletrical charge started in the center of his back and shot up his neck. Shane shivered and glanced down at his watch.

Five minutes late. There was probably another power failure in Sector B.

With a gentle groan and thumping, the tram came grumbling into the station. Its wheels squealed as the brakes were applied, air hissing from their drums. The final braking procedure was always quiet.

Snapping his watch closed, he got in the last position of the first line. He would be the last on, but the first off at the next station.

~~~

In a sea of colorful bricks and lined glass buildings, Minsomner was an art deco palace. A faded yellow brick facade hid the industrial age structure. It had been built in the post-war era of the eighteen hundreds and resurfaced in the twenties at the height of architecture on his world. Here, it was just another footnote in the creativity of artistic architects in a society that actually fed their insanity.

There were entire brick-looking building lined district streets. People liked to pretend they were designing castles in the city. Each address had a title and a culture that accompanied it.

Minsomner was a printing mistake and a joke all in one title. Misnomer. The designer/client had been unable to come up with a good enough title, and everything suggested by the architects sounded completely off the mark.

It was six stories tall; one of the shorter buildings in the city, really. It took up a quarter city block and had offices for a forty people on the five upper floors. The basement was locked off from the public, the roof contained a laboratory garden, and the ground level was a shop...of sorts.

Shane had an office on the second floor, but spent a great deal of time on the roof watching the birds pick at the greenhouse windows. They never quite figured out they couldn't get in to eat the plants. 

He liked the building and most of the occupants well enough. The building's design of title and wood from generations past was what drew him here. The normal people who kept it that way were wonderful company for even someone as isolated as himself. It was getting to the normal people that was the challenge.

He had to pass through the shop first.

Bracing himself, he paused before the ornate wrought iron and glass doors. It was a daily ritual, he always had to psych himself up before he entered. One simply did not enter this shop and go about your business.

Eyes closed, he felt gravity settle around him, though him, tugging his skin into place. He was calm, centered. The world moved on the street behind him, people passed by. A couple in hand woven clothes even entered the shop. The bell on the inside ring alert the waitress and clerks to customers.

He was suddenly hit with the pungent aroma of cinnamon and his stomach turned. Maracell was in today. That woman put cinnamon in everything, from her cookies to the chili! It was any wonder the cafe part of the shop stayed in business.

There was no use delaying it any longer. He was as calm and ready as he was ever going to be. Reaching for the door, he carefully wrapped his fingers around the handle, and tugged it open.

Warmth rolled over him in a wave of cinnamon and old paper. Taking a slow, steady breath, he opened his eyes and entered.

~~~

"I can't believe you're still driving that thing! How many times have I told you about the water pollution? Our city is drowning and all you self-centered..."

Shane tuned out Shea's ecological rant to this week's cashier. She wouldn't notice him even if she hadn't been on a rager. As the self-appointed goddess of nature, the environment was her stock and trade. More than one person had stopped coming in when she was around. Thankfully, that was infrequent and predictable.

Like always, the lights in the shop were set to dim. This gave the shop a gloomy feel when you threw in the darkly stained wood furnishing and tile floor. Booths lined the outer walls of the shop, but remained mostly empty. People tended to stick to the tables in the back along the bar and snack counter.

What filled out the main floor were racks of books and bins of comics, back dated and new. The entire shop was dominated by the sell of both. That had been the reason he first came in fifteen years ago. The sight of so many familiar titles and faces had been like stepping back into his own world.

Even now, just looking around started a familiar ache in his chest. Swallowing, he found it harder to breathe. 

The outer lane of the shop was defined by a wall that surrounded the main floor, encompassing the booths, the counter, the bar, and the front entrance. Yellow tiles lined the floor of this walkway. At the very back, there were a set of double doors that led to the business and elevators for upstairs.

Heading towards the doors, Shane became aware of others in the shop, their conversations among the racks muffled by distance. It was always a problem upon first entering. So far, he had been lucky that no one had tried shooting up the place, else he would have been one of the bodies on the floor. It wasn't that he didn't want to pay attention. There were just so many memories locked up in here.

Shane tugged on his jacket and gave the collar a flick. Smiling at no one, he continued his journey, eyes downcast. The weight of his bag hanging on his shoulder kept him grounded. The closer he got to the back, the clearer the voices became.

One in particular spoke in a harsh whisper. "We had a floater over on Dod Verden about an hour ago." That was Elise restocking the Candy Comics section and she was pissed. Her words were almost growled, but that wasn't unusual given her temperment or feral appearance. "An unregistered, and he was wearing a fucking cape. What a friggen poser. I hope the Guild nabs him."

Trying not to listen when it contained information he was privy to was like asking the sun not to shine. He snorted at her griping. 'Not likely. The guild are always too far up their own asses to care about some two-bit flier.'

"Not likely. The guild are always too far..." Beside Elise, Lumenous trailed off with a sigh. Her Esper radar was turned up to full again.

Hearing her speak his thoughts made Shane cringe. He had to focus, keep his mind calm and blank. 'Be zen, man,' he told himself.

Lumenous giggled, high and girly, like she rarely heard people talk to themselves. "Zenman. That's a funny name."

It was enough to make him stop mid-stride and look up. Turning to look over the wall, he found the two women staring in his general direction. Their eyes weren't locking on any place in particular, not that they ever would. 'Morning, girls,' he thought in their general direction.

There was no response. They just kept searching.

Shane tried not to let it weigh too heavily upon him. It worked only one in a million times, just like Lumenous' ability. Shoulders now slumped, he continued on to the doors. Reaching for the handle, he glanced over at the bar with the urge for something harder than water. It was closed now, but would be up and running in time for the lunch rush. Mixed fruit drinks were available at eleven. They served imported and locally brewed liquors at noon

Lala and Omphala were on their stools behind the great oak counter. Twin red heads, they were identical but for his beard and her breasts. Bored, they only waved in his general direction. Not that they could see him.

Just like everyday.


	3. Chapter 2: This Sadness Reflected

**'Have you ever wondered what it's like to be invisible? D'you imagine all the awesome things you'd do? Did you think that you might become a criminal, that the rules wouldn't apply to you anymore? Can you understand all the things you could truly live without?'**

Hand out for the door, he inched it closer. As he came within touching, the door was pushed back. Repelled, it slid open until wide enough for him to go through.

Almost immediately, the wall of noise hit him. Voices talking excitedly, phones ringing, keyboards clicking, handhelds tinked with every finger touch. Everything blended into one consuming mass of sound that enveloped him and tried to permanently blend itself with his ears.

Wincing, Shane was forced to take a step back. Headquarters was busier than usual. It probably had something to do with that idiot this morning. Elise's sentiments would be shared by many among the Union.

Dozens of people filled the lobby beyond the doors, talking amongst themselves, waiting. Their various styles and dress displayed the disparity in their ranks. All had one uniting item, a purple rose worn somewhere on them, the symbol of their organization. It was rare that so many would be here. A meeting must have been called.

Shane glanced back in the shop. Elise and Lumenous were still talking with each other, plant lady was still at the register with the soon-to-quit cashier. No one seemed to notice the change in the room. There was no way he was the only one to hear that ruckus. Those closest to the doors weren't even bothering to muffle their voices. Yet, no one in the shop batted an eye in the door's directions.

It took him a moment to realize why. Sighing, he walked through and waded into the fray.

"Charlene is freaking out over the Nikkei."

"Did you tell her..." The woman's conversation abruptly ended as he came within touching distance. She looked in his direction, casting a side glance while she sucked in a quick breath.

It wasn't deliberate. That wasn't something he actually had control of. Similar reactions happened as he slipped through the crowd. They were used to the effect by now, and it only made them annoyed.

The first time he had dampened a conversation, the speakers had freaked the hell out. He could still recall the look on the boy's face when nothing he said could be heard. His shrill screams when Shane ran away woke him on some nights.

This was a very valid reason Shane tried to avoid crowds. Fifteen years after the first time and he was never going to get used to it.

~~~

Elevator music was one of the few things that hadn't changed between worlds. It was comforting in a extremely annoying way. Still, it was quiet enough that Shane had time to compose his thoughts.

Folding his hands behind him on the buffer, he sat on them and waited for the car to climb higher. Out of the way at the back, the others were in no danger while they all rode to the top. It would head to the seventh floor before dropping to the second thanks to the woman at the controls. 

Shands Highwater, the third in command of the Union. There was a simple reason she would never climb any higher in the hierarchy. Her ability to manipulate electrical devices made her an annoying enemy on a good day. If you wanted to have a stable life, you let the psychopath have her way. Many a newby had learned this the hard way.

Shane had no problem with her and she never bothered him. Being on the outside had its advantages.

Coughing at the front of the car, Lord Emllet glanced over to Shands. Another big ego in the Union, he liked to think that he was important, despite only being a third tier member. Lips thinned in a pinched expression, he notably kept his hands and his opinion to himself.

Still, the lady turned her steely blue up at him with a raised eyebrow. The perfectly sculted tuft of hair held enough attitude to piss off even the most zen of Buddhists.

Before Emllet could respond, one of the taller riders stepped between their stare death match. Dressed as a bike messenger, the man was nondescript for this part of town. His padding and helmet gave him more bulky appearance.

All of this, Shane witnessed while wishing the lift was faster. He missed modern buildings. The ancient gears and wheels of this elevator were nice to look at, but it was slow to the point of madness. It made him restless. His shoulders would soon itch with the need to move, flex, tap his fingers, do something. In a crowded elevator, the last thing he needed to do was move about aimlessly.

Bodies didn't like it when he touched them. Electrical fields didn't like it when he touched them either. There was probably some correlation, but he never gave anyone the chance to study it in depth. Heck, he didn't even like coming here with all these curious minds about. Those who didn't have enough power to make them arrogant, were still open minded enough to be curious.

Curiosity was dangerous.

Gaze going distant, Shane let his head drop. His stomach burbled a bit and he tamped down on the falling sensation under his feet. There was a reason he worked in the Union's headquarters and not the Guild's. He wasn't part of either, would never join even if they offered him membership. That was a commitment he didn't particularly ever see himself making. He liked his options open.

Maybe it was a sign of antisocial behavior, maybe it was depression. He didn't really know it wasn't like he could ever make contact with someone to find out. The bad part of being stuck like he was, was the lack of contact. Fifteen years was a long time to go without talking to someone, without touching them, feeling their touch...

Swallowing, Shane stood taller and sniffed. If the car ever made it to the eighth floor...

The car was quieter than usual.

Shane glanced up, heart fluttering in his chest. His fellow passengers were looking back his way. Alarmed, he looked down at himself. There was nothing unusual. His jacket and shirt were clean. His slacks were a little tighter than they should be thanks to his laundry service. Finding nothing wrong, he looked back up.

Lord Emllet was pressed up against the doors. Skin pale and body trembling, he stared with wide-eyes and slackened jaw. Shands was beside him, and so was everyone else. They were desperately trying to put as much distance between themselves and him.

With a sigh, Shane released the buffer and took a step forwards. He count down from ten, then looked back at them.

The good Lord was still frozen against the doors, but Shands had started to compose herself. 

He had forgotten. Face burning, he walked to the controls, pushing Shands aside with a slice of his hand. With a quick jab of his fingers, he hit 'Two' on the keypad and stepped back. All the keys lit up for a moment before leaving only his on.

The car began to lower and no one made a sound of protest. Not that they could if they wanted to. At least one side-effect was coming in handy today. Arms crossed, he stood before the doors and waited at the front of the elevator for a change.

~~~

Posters of his latest project hung on several walls, sketches from the best panels blown up beyond life-sized. It hadn't been his idea. At least, not at first. He designed and sketched them. Illustrating took a greater deal of his time. Aubry filled in the color when he was behind. The finished product rarely ever interested him. Now, he liked to see where he was and needed the visual aid to remember.

He blamed it on learned laziness. Aubry had gotten him hooked on the slacker way of doing things. 

Heading to the mini-fridge, he tugged his bag around to get at the supplies he got that morning out. The noodles were dry already, but they stayed fresher in the fridge. His cheese and tomatoes definitely needed to stay in the cooler, though. They were still in a single bag for convenience. Taking it out, he readied himself. It was a small thing to transfer them, but took a great deal of skill.

Bending down, he reached out to grab the handle of the fridge. He had to be careful about it, moving slowly go grasp the rubber handle. Despite the lack of conductive material, it still tried to move away from his hand. The very air around it felt to blow back against him as if from from a person's exhale. With a bit of effort, he pushed past the resistance and grasped the handle. Jerking it open, he pushed his grocery bag inside and slammed it shut.

If he wasn't fast enough, sometimes they would come flying back out. The polarity of non-conductive objects took little time to reallign. Objects that he held or even touched, tended to harmonize. He could still see them, but everyone else saw the objects disappear. 

Conductive objects and those with an electrical field were almost incompatible. He had lost more than one electric toaster due to careless morning routines. It was best to forget the multitude of other devices he had encountered before he learned his limits.

People were another thing he wished to never think about again.

Food stuffs taken care of, he decided to get busy on the day's scheduled projects. He had a series of six panels due before noon that he had been working on the past week. They were all but done. He simply wanted to check them over for any last minute mistakes or missing elements.

Tianna only accepted the best works. While he may be the lead artist on label, there were four others on the same project. With a deadline for the next issue two months away, she wouldn't be taking any chances. His art was used in every panel, but they all contributed to it. The fewer mistakes, the greater his share.

Grasping the dropcloth over his station, he threw it back over the edge of his draft table. A sensor over the table automatically turned on the lights. His drafting pencils and stencils were neatly sealed in his box. He would place his hand inside before taking the lid completely off. Thirty seconds of touching them would be enough.

Hooking his ankle around the foot rung on his custom plastic chair, he dragged it under his bottom and plopped down.

Fifteen years next week. He had been in this world for a decade and a half.

Swallowing, he set his hands on the art box and held it. Mentally, he began to count back from thirty.

~~~

Shane had the world timed down to a second and knew when to sit up away from his art. Counting down from thirty, he watched a heat mirage seem to ripple over the paper. He pushed the stool back from the drafting table, a couple folded papers in his hand, and waited. Two seconds later, the lock on his studio office snicked back. Spinning to face the door with an unnecessary smile and his hands in his lap, his heart began to flutter. He couldn't help himself. This was his favorite part of the week!

Today was refill day! If he played his cards right, he might also have plans for the weekend.

With a soft groan, the door slid back along the track. A small cart appeared in the gap, followed by the mousy brunette pushing it. Shoulders just over the cart's top shelf, she had to lean sideways multiple times to guide it through the doorway. As the wheels vibrated across the foot of the track, the contents inside bounced and clanked together. "Damn it. I just secured those!"

Snickering, he hunkered down on the stool, watching the little drama unfold. He was never exactly certain what complaint she had, but her mini-rants were enough to entertain him.

Eventually, the cart came to a rolling stop a few feet inside the door. She turned to grab the latch and jerked the door shut with more force than strictly necessary. It bounced into the jam and the lock automatically fell into place. "And you stay that way!" With a satisfied smirk at it, she turned back to her cart and resumed pushing it into his office. "At least one thing around here shows some respect."

"Good morning, Jocelyn. What's news today?" Shane always thought he spoke too loud, even if no one could hear him. Maybe it was the lack of practice or the uneasy edge under his skin from knowing he couldn't be heard even if he wanted to be. Not that it stopped him from trying. Lowering his head, Shane knew he would never stop trying. Someday, he might forget, though.

Ms. Carter went about her work regardless of his presence. "That damn flier calls himself Checkered, for checkered past. Of all the silly things. Even wears a blasted game board pattern for a suit. If that wasn't bad enough, one day since blazing, and already everybody's bowing down to kiss his black and white ass!" Her cart had reached the cupboard in the corner and she was busy opening the grating on the side with her keys. "Can you believe they've already offered him a position in the Heirarchy? Thirty-five years with this outfit, and I'm still changing superheros diapers!" Once the cart was open, she did the same to the cupboard. Standing back, she placed a hand to her lip and studied the contents. "You've not been busy with the drafting paper, Mr. Lauden."

Snorting, he shook his head at the ridiculousness. "Of course not, you know I'm in the final stages of the project." They had been having this conversation for years now. She knew his schedule, yet always seemed to forget just as she reached the cabinet. Maybe if she quit ranting all the time and focused more on her work...

Shane opend his right hand and pulled out a precisely folded note. Clutching it between his index and middle fingers, he looked up to aim and flicked it over at her feet. The tiny crane hit the floor beside her shoes, seeming to hover above it. After six years of practice, he had this down to an art. Watching her, he began the count.

"Coloring pencils are a little short, but still in good shape. Guess that means the inks will need refilling." Sighing, she started to bend down and inspect his ink vials. Just as she started to reach out, the crane beneath her rippled before hitting the floor. Her annoyed sigh was loud enough to echo off the walls. "This had better not be a request for more Midnight In Paris Blue. I've already told six people today that it's not happening! The company's gone, you're just gonna have to get over it!" Still, she snatched up the crane.

Watching her study the neat folds, his heart began to beat faster. Shane found himself holding his breath, as if this didn't happen almost everyday.

With a quick flick of the wing, she glanced back in his general direction. Ms. Carter wouldn't be able to see him, but it was probably a habit on her part. "Cute, kid. If this comic crap ever falls through, you got origami to fall back on." Then she began to quickly dismantle his hard work.

He scoffed, incensed. Crap? He was a hight artist! He was ranked third in the city last year out of fifty who had qualified. Sure, it was a Union supported event, and all of the artists had come from either their main house or subsidiary crafter, but it had meant something to him. At least, it had meant something at the time. "Just read the damn note!" Smirking, he crossed his arms, fingering the tiny giraffe and deer he still held.

As if she could hear him, she pulled it open with a snort. Shaking it out, she cleared her throat three times before reading aloud. "Dear Ms. Carter. Always with the politeness. It's not gonna work, honey, I've got warts older than you." She shook the note again as if something might fall out. "Yodda, yodda, art supplies are fine. Blah blah. Some mushy stuff." She winced, looking away, holding the note with two fingers. "Kid, if all you're gonna do is write flowery stuff, save it for your assistant. I'm sure she'd be willing to circle yes if she likes you."

The explosive snicker made his nasal cavity burn. Eyes watering, he rubbed at his cheeks. "I have eyes only for you, my sweet beauty!" 

It didn't take her long. Finishing the page long note, she mumbled to herself. When she finished, she carefully refolded the crane and stuffed it in her smock. "Look, I can't promise anything, but if you promise not to try and touch the cat again, I'll ask Vinton about it tonight."

"Oh, don't even try that. You know he can't say no to my humorous attempts at bowling." Smiling, Shane put his feet on the floor. Boredom was already setting in. Pushing off, he slowly started to spin his stool. The seat began to rise as it spun clockwise. "As for the cat, if he would stop trying to jump in my lap, he wouldn't get slingshotted across the alley!"

Wagging her finger, she aimed it in his direction. "That's not his fault. You just like to sit in his chair." There was a twinkle in her eye even as she spoke. 

They both knew that damn cat sat where it liked, and where it liked was in Shane's lap. Her husband should never have let it in the alley.

Nearly a foot higher, his seat stopped turning. Sighing, he began to spin it in the opposite direction. On the forward twist, he threw the deer at her feet.

The twinkle quickly left her eye as she picked up a box of inkwells. "You know, that little shit did this on purpose." Twisting, she set the wells inside the cart and pulled out another flat of filled ones from beside it. 

So, she had been paying attention!

"A kid with flying ability just happens to blaze a week before Sound Day?" She snorted. With a grunt, she heaved the wells onto the ink shelf. Standing, she rubbed a stray curl off her forehead using the back of her hand. "The little shit timed it, that's what happened. He probably blazed months ago, but kept his ability under his cap. That would explain the fitted suit and awful name."

Shane counted down to one with a sigh of relief. Watching the deer ripple, he nodded in polite acceptance. There was no point in denying it. Her cynicism was logical.

With a quick glance down, she found the new note. After checking it over, she opened the deer and scanned it. "Nothing special. He liked those olives from Tuscany you got him last year." Ms. Carter took a moment to refold it before sticking it with the other. She stared her feet again before checking the bottom shelf of the cupboard. "Your brushes are still untouched. I guess they aren't letting you paint anymore. Too bad, I kinda liked those splatter marks you called art."

Out of spite, he threw the giraffe at her head. It bounced off her shaggy mane and landed on top of her cart.

"Speaking of Sound Day, you might want to tidy up in here a bit." Rubbing at her hair, she snorted and closed his cupboard. Her voice rose an octave when she spoke. "Skardinos will be here for the ceremony next week."

He froze halfway through his next spin. Foot down to stop the twirling momentum, he slowly twisted himself back around to look at her.

Ms. Carter had her arms crossed over her chest, smirk firmly in place. Staring at him, her eyes focused on no spot in particular. She simply watched the area before his desk. "Thought that would get your attention."

Heart pounding, he wished she could hear him so much! Oh man, the things he would tell her right now. He didn't know whether to throw something or shout from the rooftops. Shane should have known he would come. Skardinos was the top guy, it was the fifteenth anniversary, of course he would be coming.

Heck, the guy had been there that night, he had been the one to seal the breach that...

Spots began to appear before his eyes and Shane slumped a little. Sucking in quickly, he realized he had stopped breathing. His heart threatened to pound from his chest as his skin prickled.

Fifteen years since it had happened. Skardinos had saved them all where the Guild had failed. Everything had been lost.

Skardinos would be here.

Trembling, he clutched his knees to keep from rocking back and forth. When he opened his eyes, tears slid gently down his cheeks. 

Ms. Carter was reading the third note. Her lips moved silently as she read it. When she finished, she refolded the giraffe, and it joined the deer and crane. A tiny smile on her lips, she sighed and closed the cupboard. Then she turned back to her cart to close, then lock it. She was grasping the handle of her cart when she paused. Back to him, the woman shook her head.

It was the same everytime he asked.

Closing his eyes, Shane let go. Rocking gently, his arms came up to wrap around his body.

Maybe next week.


End file.
